


No Longer A Doctor

by RhapsodyOfInk



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, As addicts, BAMF John Watson, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Ignore s3 and s4, John Watson assasin, John Watson mercenary, John goes off the rails, Lestrade gets a break, Molly Hooper stops pining after Sherlock, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is a Mess, Shows both John and Sherlock, To each their own poison, Trauma, WIP, You've been warned, but he has to help John, happy ending at the end though, idk yet, if it gets support it will be a series, in my opinion, just in case you need spoilers, of course, really - Freeform, they aren't great, this might be a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhapsodyOfInk/pseuds/RhapsodyOfInk
Summary: No Longer a Doctor - A Sherlock Holmes FanfictionMycroft turned back to Sherlock, with a look that unnerved him. Sherlock had only seen that look on his brother’s face twice before, and neither instance was good.“What is it?” he questioned, already running through the possible answers in his head. Was John married? Was he back in the Army? What could John have done to offput Mycroft so much?“Well Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “It appears Dr. John Watson has gone off the radar.”It has been two years since the suicide of Sherlock Holmes. Though his name was cleared after many months with further investigation by the press and the Scotland Yard, it seems that the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson have ended. That is until Irene Adler's right hand man enters London, and John Watson mysteriously vanishes from it. The rise of Irene Adler in the crime world and the danger her mercenary poses to London is more than enough to pull Sherlock Holmes back to the land of living and into the public eye. But will this threat be able to bring Sherlock and John back into each other's lives?
Relationships: Irene Adler & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	No Longer A Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This book takes place in BBC's Sherlock Holmes. It is post-The Reichenbach Fall, but completely ignores the events of S3 and S4. While I do really enjoy Mary Morstan's character, she unfortunately will not be included in this work. I would also like to apologize in advance for any errors I make in this book, as I am not very familiar with English culture, and am doing my best using details from both the show and my own research. If you have any suggestions, questions, or comments, you can leave them in the comments section below each chapter! Updates may be irregular, but I still am very excited to see how far this fanfiction of mine goes.

**Sherlock**

* * *

Keeping his head down, the tall, dark haired man made his way through the crowded street on the cold night. People pushed passed him, celebrating, drunk, happy. He didn’t waste any thoughts on the matter of celebration, he was too focused, preoccupied on other thoughts.

He had a job to do. 

He broke off from the main road, his coat swinging around him as he changed direction. He briskly walked by the darkened shops that lined the much less populated cobbled street, sparing a passing glance into the reflection of a closed bakery window. The glimpse lasted less than 2 seconds, but it confirmed his earlier observations. 

Two men were following him, one short and stout, the other at about average height and with a thinner frame. Both had been sharing the same direction as him for the last 4 and a half blocks. Both hired to follow and track him to his destination, although they were hired separately, as evident by the way they had been passive aggressively walking at varying speeds, each trying to take the lead of the other. 

He continued walking down the street, letting the two other men follow him for just a few more moments. Then he decided it was time to disappear. He ducked into an alleyway, and by the time his pursuers had reached the alley entrance, he had vanished into the shadows.

The man left the cover of the unlit pathways not long after, assured he had lost any tail that tried to follow him into the maze that made up the city backstreets. The dark gave way to yellow light and chattering noise, both spilling out of a nearby pub. The man didn’t bother to read the sign denoting the pub’s name. He knew where he was, and thus stepped through the doorway.

Warm air flushed his face, but he kept his collar turned up against his face. None of the pub’s occupants would likely remember him being there, but precautions were necessary all the same. His gaze briefly caught the barman giving him a shrewd look, decided it was of no importance, and made his way to the back of the pub to an unnoticeable, plain door. 

As he entered and closed the door behind him, the pub sounds were muted, replaced with the buzzing of fluorescent lights. The latch closing firmly behind him, disrupting the silence of the large warehouse-like room. 

“Well if it isn’t the consulting detective himself. Welcome Sherlock Holmes!” said a man’s booming voice. It echoed and bounced off the walls, annoyingly so. 

Sherlock shrugged off his mild irritation at the mocking comment. He closed the distance between himself and the group of people that stood in the center of the storage warehouse. He noted the visible guns held by four guards, as well as the statues of the guards, which indicated military training in all of them.

He turned his attention to the man in front, the owner of the thunderous voice. “I haven’t the patience to deal with juvenile-minded taunts Fournier. I’m not particularly interested in anything except your information on Miss Adler’s mercenary”

Fournier was a man Sherlock had come to know well in recent time. He was Jacques Fournier, member of the France Corsican mafia and as of right now, one of the few persons in Western Europe who claimed to know concrete information on the ever elusive Irene Adler. 

One of the few persons that was still alive that is. 

“Of course, of course, Monsieur Holmes,” Fournier said. He waved a hand at his guards, two of which broke their positions to stand at the back door while the other pair left to the other side entrance of the warehouse. 

He continued on as soon as the guards left them. His voice took on a lower tone, one less likely to carry - though still full of arrogance. “You must understand Monsieur Holmes, that this information never came from me? Neither you nor I were ever at this meeting.”

Sherlock nodded. It was obvious that Fournier would be cautious. Irene Adler, more often known as ‘The Woman’, had entered the world of underground crime with a dangerous reputation of eliminating any who knew more about her than she wanted them to know. 

Sherlock knew chasing her head on would be near impossible. However, her right-hand soldier had been less of a shadow to chase, although only slightly so. When he had learned that Fournier had quietly come across information on Irene Adler’s closest man, it did not take long for him to seek out the Frenchman. 

“I need to know whatever you know about Adler’s mercenary. The quicker you tell me, the sooner this rendezvous will never have happened.” Sherlock stared down Fournier, his gaze looking him up and down to inspect for any tells that he was lying. 

Fournier took a deep breath and began. “Firstly, he is not Adler’s mercenary. It is said that he came to her, and he is only one of two people to ever be in continued direct contact with her.”

 _The other being Miss Kate, her assistant._ Sherlock’s memory of meeting with Irene Adler supplied the information. 

“Secondly, he passed through Paris a month ago, taking out two fairly powerful members of our organization. He disappeared without a trace from France, much to the anger of all of us. It was less than a week ago, I learned through whispers that he was heading south, into territory he hadn’t been in before.”

Sherlock filed each detail in his brain, trying to connect the pieces to what he already knew of Adler’s network. _New territory? Why hasn’t Adler’s man ever gone farther north?_ He needed to know where, where exactly the man was going. “Where is his destination? How far north did he go?” Sherlock demanded. 

“An old informant of mine alerted me that he had turned up in Calais, saying something about plans in London.” Fournier shrugged, “After that, there has been no sign or sighting of him.” 

“London…” Sherlock whispered. _Why would a man who’s traveled all over Europe working for Irene Adler never step foot in London until now?_ His mind eagerly supplied the answer before it finished the question. _Because he’d be recognized in London._

Sherlock started to race through those he knew had extensive history in the London crime scene. He betrayed no outward sign of his thoughts however, instead raising his hand to shake Fournier’s and be on his way.

His hand never shook Fournier’s, because at that precise moment, the sounds of guns being raised in their direction stopped both men’s movement. 

Ten soldiers, dressed in dark colored uniform and gear, emerged from both sides of the warehouse. Despite no badges or markings on their uniforms, Sherlock could tell by the model of their guns, as well as the make of their shoes that the soldiers were MI5. 

True to his deductions, an English voice spoke from behind Sherlock’s back, militaristic and uncompromising. “Do not move! Place your hands behind your head and do nothing until we order you to.”

Fournier quickly complied, though his eyes widened with anger directed at Sherlock. 

Sherlock sighed, and followed Fournier’s example, putting his hands behind his head. _This ought to be fun_ , he said to himself sarcastically. 


End file.
